


There's a Fork In the Road

by Turtles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtles/pseuds/Turtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis go on a road trip, but it's not really about the road trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a Fork In the Road

They rent an old car. It still has a tape player in it. 

“It's part of the experience,” Louis says. Neither of them have cassettes. So instead they burn CDs by the dozen to argue about later.

\-----------------------------------------

The morning they leave Harry is burrowed under the covers, nary a tuft of hair peeking out. Louis wakes up before him, turns and tries to see him, but it's just mountains of white covers. Louis digs under them until he finds warm skin, then presses close. 

“Wake up, Harry. Wake up.”

Harry feels it against the crook of his elbow, bent beneath a pillow. He snuffles and turns into Louis' chest, feeling warm and tired and happy. Louis holds him. 

They're supposed to be out of the city by nine. They're supposed to be out in the country by ten. They are. They tell all the relevant people they'll be out of town. All the relevant people don't ask why.

\-----------------------------------------

They hit their first destination at noon. This one Harry picked. They get out of the car and walk over towards the monument. Louis steps up against the railing and looks up, then back at Harry who's doing the same. 

“So, what's it supposed to be exactly?” Louis says, confused at the towering work above them.

Harry stares for a bit then cocks his head to the side. His curls come in connection with Louis' cheek. Louis likes that. Harry opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then says, “You know I'm not entirely sure what it's supposed to be.”

They stand there looking at statue until Harry tilts his head into the crook of Louis' neck. His breath is warm and Louis' neck is soft, the fabric of the jumper he's pulled on rubs against Harry's face. 

“I'm tired.” Harry exhales into Louis. He gets petted for that, strong fingers in soft hair. 

“No, no Harold. You picked this one, it's practically a requirement to stare at these sorts of things for more than ten minutes.” Louis wraps his arms around Harry, they don't move.

\-----------------------------------------

They fight about the maps. “Look you daft twat if you'd taken the left turn like I'd said we wouldn't be in the middle of this country road at half ten.”

Louis snarls at him, driving steadily along the road, “If you'd told me to turn before I'd passed the bloody exit maybe you'd have a right to complain.”

“This is ridiculous, pull over maybe I can -” the words are cut out of Harry's mouth when the map goes flying out the window.

Harry's life flashes before his eyes and he turns, mouth wide to look at Louis. Louis is still looking out the window with a mildly horrified expression, before he turns to look at Harry. Silence reigns in the car for a split minute before it's covered with absolute hysterics. 

“Oh my god, your face, you'd think god had come and plucked the fucking map out of your hands.”

“It looked like you were about to have a coronary, boo, I wouldn't be talking about faces.”

They're still driving down the road. The wind is messing with Harry's hair. Louis glances at Harry out of the corner of his eye. He turns back towards the road, an involuntary smile pulling at his lips. 

Suddenly, Louis takes a sharp left. “What in the hell, Lou? Where are you going?”

Louis' smile can't be contained anymore, it breaks out over his face. Overpowering him, making his eyes crinkle and his breath catch. He pulls a half shrug and says, “Live while we're young, right Styles?”

They sleep under the stars. The backseat is definitely not big enough for both of them. They don't care.

\-----------------------------------------

They stop at a hundred places it feels. Everywhere they pick up postcards. Louis writes his and they start with Harry-

Harry writes his and they don't.

Louis always wants to peek, Harry ends up locking himself in the middle seat of the car while Louis makes his ridiculous pouty face at him. It's hard not to give in. They mail the post cards back to their flat.

\-----------------------------------------

They stay at small motel chains. Order rooms with two beds. Throw their things on one and each other on the next. 

They're exhausted, but not exhausted enough. Louis' mind is always racing. He mouths at Harry's neck, palms at his ass. Harry groans and grinds forward.

On foreign sheets everything's new. A different slide in a different shower. A body doesn't change though. Harry's thighs still clamp around Louis' head in a strangers bed. Louis still feels warm and sure and whole against a new wall. The carpet is different against Harry's knees, but the fingers that pull against his hair aren't. The warm back along his isn't new. Louis is known and felt.

Louis likes to fuck with Harry. Feels visceral when he hears the slight exhalation from Harry. Nothing more than a huff, because Harry likes to let Louis do what he wants. To let Louis feel what he wants. This has never just been reduced to sex.

The windows are always down as a result. Louis' feathered hair looks good no matter what the wind does to it. Harry's hair flies up around him, revealing his ears, getting in his eyes. It's a little worth it to see Louis' smirk, and Harry tries not to dimple while he calls him a brat, but he dimples anyway.

When they get out of the car Harry looks into the car mirror and sighs out, “I look like a poodle now.”

Louis grins at him beneath hooded eyes. “Yeah, you absolutely do.”

The helpless smile is still on Harry's face as he tries to pat down his hair. Louis pulls him in and delivers a smacking kiss on the crown of his head. “You're a gorgeous poodle, Hazza.”

Harry links their hands together.

\-----------------------------------------

Petrol is actually necessary, so they pull into a station and Louis gets out to fill up the tank. Louis nods towards the convenience store, “Get me something, will you Haz?”

Harry pops open the door and heads inside. Louis finishes filling up the tank, and gets in the car to wait for Harry. After ten minutes have passed he rolls his eyes and pulls into the lot closer to the store. 

When he steps inside Harry is at check out, the counter loaded with every souvenir in the store probably, and more than a couple sweets for Louis.

Louis offers the cashier a false grin, and cuts his look to Harry who is smiling oh so broadly at him, like a toddler who's tracked mud through the house and doesn't want to get scolded. Louis sighs and helps him carry everything to the car.

“Was it necessary to bring the shoppe with us?” Louis inquires. Harry ignores him and starts playing with the mini toy gun he's picked up. There's a pause and all you can hear are soft 'pew pew pew's coming from inside the car.

Louis fidgets a bit as they pull out onto the road and then says, “Well. Did you get me one at least?”

Harry pulls out a second gun and hands it to Louis. Louis smirks and takes a small pretend fire at Harry, “There's a lad.”

He reaches out and ruffles at Harry's head. When his hand drops it lands on Harry's thigh, and Louis' look is warm and fond. Harry looks out the window and doesn't even try to hide his smile. The windows are down again.

\-----------------------------------------

Diners become breakfast, lunch, and supper. Harry eats waffles at every single one. 

“I'm on a waffle quest,” he tells Louis. Louis starts eating waffles too. Harry smirks at him over his orange juice, but Louis tangles their feet together. Harry's face drops to something heated. Louis smirks at him over his coffee.

On the last day of their trip Harry has the perfect waffle.

\-----------------------------------------

When they get home the flat smells different. Something to become familiar again. They drop their bags by the front door and fall into bed again.

On familiar sheets everything is home. Louis welcomes them back with his mouth, and tongue, and fingers. Harry welcomes Louis with strong hands against his shoulderblades. Home has only meant one thing to Louis for a long time.

They wake up sun warm and sweaty tangled against each other. Their breaths are stale, and their hair is greasy, but they still trade lazy, open kisses. 

Louis gets their mail later in the week. They both look through their post cards. Harry makes those noises he always does when he gets weepy, but doesn't want to be. Louis flips through the post cards and his heart takes residence in his throat. 

'I love you.'  
'I love you.'  
'I love you.'

Written in different pens, on different post cards, the same three words and Louis flips until he reaches the last one and that one. That one just says one word and it's forever.

Louis frames them and hangs them up, a claiming for everyone who comes into their flat. Harry gets embarrassed about it, but that's what Louis likes about it.

Later in bed, Harry says the same three words.

**Author's Note:**

> Major thanks for underwaternow on tumblr for looking this over!  
> P.S. Wow look I actually finished something I started


End file.
